Bad Decisions, Worst Influence

My alma mater is small.  How small?  Try 2,700 students (undergrad AND grad) small.  Nestled in a historically beautiful (and expensive) neighborhood, just a block from the city’s downtown, it was cozy and very comfortable (in its own way).  The school was all about forging connections.  Like it or not, you were going to get to know your peers.  For lack of trying on my part, I was accepted, full scholarship, through early admissions to this lovely institution.  Having been turned down by the school I actually wanted (Vanderbilt) and being told by my mother that my second choice was not an option (UC- Santa Barbara), I let my alma mater (we’ll call it Not Vanderbilt College) know that yes, I would be seeing them in August.

A few weeks later I received a letter stating that my presence would be required at a weekend-long summer orientation.  At said orientation, I would meet my roommate (the worst possible match in history…even after I filled out their version of an e-Harmony profile), meet my other peers in the class of 2006 and schedule my classes.  What they didn’t say, however, was that this weekend was basically going to feel like a summer camp that your parents signed you up for and didn’t tell you about until they were driving you to the bus depot.

Eager to meet my roommate, I arrived at Not Vanderbilt (how I got there, I honestly have no idea…car?  train?  teleport?) with my overnight bag and my enthusiasm to make new college friends so we could have adventures just like the ones captured in the pamphlets and catalogues I memorized from Actual Vanderbilt.  After checking in and depositing my items in the residence hall (we’ll call it Pete Seeger Hall), I reported to an area where I met my roommate.  The first (or second) question she asked me was about whether or not I went to church.  I’m not opposed to religion.  As a Catholic, I like church from time to time.  However, I wasn’t there for church chat.  I was there for college hi-jinx.  So we’re going to skip right over my history with my ill-matched roommate, as it is quite the story for another day.

After escaping from my roommate, we were placed into orientation groups, where we would do idiotic ice breakers and what the group leaders (upper-classmen) perceived to be bond-building exercises.  After refusing to take part in these rituals, along with my future best friend- My Lady…one of the only reasons I survived freshman year and my terrible roommate- we were finally released and allowed to mingle in our own non-forced way.  Sitting in front of Pete Seeger Hall was a petite girl with a pixie hair cut smoking with the upper-classmen.  She, like myself and my Lady, stood out from the Glee Club orientation crew.  She had a vibe, a sort of “I don’t give a fuck” attitude about her, without coming off as cocky or conceited.  She flirted, she rebuffed, she accepted, she ignored.  She was a force.  And, as we would later find out, she was a big fan of Wilson Phillips.  So, we’ll call her Carnie. 

Carnie was from downstate Illinois: the other side of the Mississippi River, near enough to East St. Louis to feel tough but far enough away to feel safe.  She had a talent for showing off both sides of that personality: sassy with people who are easily threatened, but soft when her toughness is challenged.  But we liked her nonetheless.  Possibly because we disliked most everyone else.

Suddenly feeling hungry (or adventurous), we decided to take a stroll to the downtown area.  About a block away from the intersection of, oh, “Franklin and Detroit”, we come across three gentlemen who are not the most attractive people in the…well, they just weren’t attractive, but Carnie saw something in them.  Something no one else saw or wanted to see.  But when she decided to flirt back, we figured we should stick around just to make sure she stays out of trouble. 

Almost immediately we see that these guys are going to be bad news.  I don’t know what it was, but I think it was the words “Indiana”, “Wal-Mart parking lot” and “B96 Summer Bash.”  More coherently, they proceeded to tell us a story about how they had come into town from Indiana and were on their way to the B96 Summer Bash and, not being the type to bother with things like “reserving hotel rooms,” they were planning on finding a Wal-Mart and sleeping in the parking lot.

For reasons completely unknown to My Lady and I, this does not deter Carnie in the least.  She only steps up her flirting game.  She had taken a particular shining to the leader of the pack, who wore a shirt with only 25% of the buttons on his shirt buttoned up.  She was especially fond of his baby-smooth hairless chest, as she continually rubbed his chest and reminded us of how nice and smooth it was.

Then Carnie and Hairless Chest discover something they have in common: cigarettes and the fact that they are both low on them.  Using her charms and a dash of desperation, Carnie persuades Hairless Chest (with a seductive well-timed chest rub) to drive her to the nearest gas station in order to obtain more cigarettes.  Hairless chest really doesn’t want to.  Something about “gas money”, but he eventually agrees, thanks to the magic hands.

This is where our complete breakdown of common sense occurs.  We know that perhaps going for a ride with random boys during the nighttime is something our parents would advise against.  But we decide, eh, why not an adventure?  However, upon seeing the van (yes, van) we were to be riding in…well, if it weren’t for the fact that we didn’t want to just leave Carnie by herself with some dirty Indiana boys, we would have said “no thanks” and bid them boys a fucking adieu. 

Let’s talk about their dirty dirty van.  It was a conversion van, a family vehicle that under normal circumstances would seat a family of seven comfortably.  When put in the hands of dirty Indiana boys, we were lucky to find a corner of a seat that we felt safe sitting on.  Every seating surface was seriously covered in clothes and paper and food wrappers and general crud.  Aside from wondering how three boys were conceiving that they would be able to sleep in here, we had no idea how six of us would be able to ride in here without catching a serious case of scabies.  Somehow, someway, we manage it, but only by the grace of God.

There’s very little I remember about the trip to the gas station, other than the fact that if you honked the horn, the volume on the radio adjusted.

Dirty, dirty Indiana van.

After driving us back to the campus, when we’re ready to finally send these boys on their way, Carnie does something that will set the ball rolling on a series of bad decisions that will continue well into our first semester of freshman year: she invites Hairless Chest and his crew to sleep in the dorms so that they don’t have to sleep in the van.  Now, keep in mind that at this point, we’ve only known these boys for, oh, an HOUR.  And already she’s inviting strangers into a dorm that’s being shared with many other people who probably would not appreciate the intrusion.  I strike down that idea, as I would not be sharing my room with a dirty Indiana boy.  If she wanted to house three boys, that’d be up to her.  I wouldn’t appreciate it, but I’d be sure to keep my door locked until sun-up. 

Eventually, cooler heads prevail and surprisingly, the Indiana boys are the ones who turn down the invite and go on their dirty way.

This incident will foreshadow a future problem with Carnie where she will invite another (even more unsavory and criminal) boy to stay for DAYS in the all-girls dorm, which brings much-deserved wrath and venom from the residents.  But that’s another story for another reality/talk show.

The next day, there wasn’t a shower hot enough to scrub the dirty Indiana van from my skin.  We never heard from them again (thank goodness) and by the next day Carnie didn’t even care or seem to remember anything about them.  It was just the first of many adventures we would have with Carnie during our short time as friends (she only lasted one term…for a variety of reasons).  And looking back on it, I’m actually grateful that the night ended incident free, as I broke one of the very rules that parents are forever stressing to their kids.  I might not have made it to my first day of college because I ignored some pretty basic common sense.

But then, I wouldn’t have obtained a story to tell you fine people.  So getting into that gross gross van worked out for everyone.